Tangled
by Mrs. Witter
Summary: Tristan and Rory get a little tangled.


**Disclaimer:** Don't own a thing. The characters belong to Amy Sherman Palladino.

**Improv:** magician ~ ravel ~ secret ~ capture

**Part:**  (1/1)

**Spoilers**: None

**Rating: **PG13** - **R (to be on the safe side)

Tangled

She pressed up against him, her legs pressing gently into his thighs. His hand grazed over her back, over the exposed skin between her shoulder blades and then over her bare arm. Goosebumps broke out over her flesh and she knew that he was purposely teasing her, heightening all of her senses and sending her well-honed body into overdrive. 

Bastard. 

She shivered a little when his warm breath tickled the back of her neck and bit her lower lip to hold back a moan when his lips trailed over her ear lobe. His other hand smoothed over her stomach as he steadied himself and then rested his jaw lightly at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. 

"Tristan." The name escaped her lips in a sigh before she could stop herself. She turned her head a little only to see a meaningful smirk curve his lips. She grinned back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't look so smug, darling. It's my turn."

He merely raised his eyebrows. "Can't wait." 

Rory reached over his arm and licked her lips in anticipation. She inched the piece of cardboard closer and flicked the plastic spinner, smiling triumphantly when she saw where it landed. "Ha! Right foot on blue!" 

He shook his head and started to chuckle. "You are so going down, Gilmore."

"Nu-uh!" she replied squirming a bit. "I happen to be very flexible."

"Don't I know it, baby." He growled and kissed the skin behind her ear. She giggled a bit and tried to think of how to move her foot without falling. "There's no way you are not falling. You go ahead and try, Rory." 

She furrowed her brows in concentration; her tongue peeking out slightly as she slowly moved her foot across the plastic _Twister_ mat. Applying all her weight to her upper body, she tried to keep her balance as her foot neared the big blue dot. A cramp shot through her upper arm, her body wobbled and then gave way as she lost her balance and crashed to the floor, taking Tristan down in the process. 

She groaned but started to laugh as her legs raveled with his. He was laughing to and he slipped his hands up her back to get her to turn around, when she did he settled on top of her, as she lay flat against the _Twister_ mat. She smiled sheepishly. "Okay, you won."

"Then I shall claim my prize." He simply arched and eyebrow and bent his head to capture her lips in a soft kiss. She responded to him, settling against the mat comfortably and letting her hands slide up his chest and then over his shoulders. 

When his lips left hers and started down the column of her throat, she sighed happily, her eyes closed and a content smile on her face. "I can hardly believe that in a few weeks, we'll be married."

"Two weeks and three days," Tristan responded against her skin. "But who's counting?"

"There's so much to do still," she said as he slipped the strap of her tank top down her shoulder and smoothed his hand over the bare skin. She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I think I got all the invitations out yesterday. Or was Paris going to do that?"

"Your mother," he reminded her as he nibbled lightly on her collarbone. "Paris is handling the dress because she can pick it up on her way from work or something." 

"What about your tux?" she asked, a little worriedly. The other strap came off the shoulder and was immediately replaced by his lips. He mumbled something unintelligible which made her giggle. "You're not listening are you?"

He lifted his head and stared down at her with those sleepy blue eyes. "I must say, Mary, I'm losing my touch. I remember in the earlier days of our courtship, all I had to do was kiss you and you wouldn't be able to think straight." 

"That must be it," she replied with mock seriousness. "Why don't we try again just to be sure if the spark is truly gone? After all, soon we'll be an old married couple." 

He adopted her expression as he lowered his head again. "Yes, let's try again."

This kiss was hotter than the previous one and not at all gentle. His hands trailed down the side of her body and then under her rear. She arched into him instinctively, her hands grasping at his shoulders and his knocked the kiss up to NC-17. He pulled away and raised an eyebrow. "Better?" 

She curled a hand behind his head and smiled. "We shouldn't be doing this on a _Twister _mat."

"This is our apartment, Rory," he reminded her with a genuinely pleased smile as he quickly scanned the living room they had just finished decorating a few days ago. "We can do whatever we want, wherever we want. Besides, think of it this way – you'll never be able to look at a _Twister_ mat quite the same way again."

She giggled at his suggestive wink. "That's what you said about the kitchen floor, the sofa, the shower, the bath tub and the closet…does that tell you something about us, Tristan?"

"Yes," he answered solemnly as his fingers slipped under the waistband of her sweats. "It tells me that we hardly ever make it to the bed." 

"Sex addict," she mumbled as she let him pull her sweats off her hips and down her thighs.

"You didn't seem to mind much then," he reminded her as her material pooled near her ankles and he tugged them off. "In fact, I believe it was you that jumped me in the closet last night." 

And in the kitchen and shower, but she wasn't going to let him know that. Men liked to think that they were the masters of seduction. She pouted as he settled above her again and kissed the skin under her jaw. She really didn't know why she was protesting to this – her only explanation was that it was more fun this way, making him work hard at turning her into a pile of mush. "I shouldn't be doing this so soon before the wedding. I'm a good girl."

That earned a chuckle from him and she slapped him lightly on the shoulder. He looked at her, smiling widely. "Baby, I'll be the first one to say that you are a very good girl. But when it comes to me, you know you just can't resist."

She had to admit that was true. It was very hard to resist him when he smiled a certain way, or looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time or when he called her "beautiful" or whispered "Mary" in that intimate, secret way of his…she couldn't get enough of him. "It's hard to resist you when you have sex on your mind, Tristan."

"You mean when _you_ have sex on _your_ mind." 

She opened her mouth to protest but came up short. She narrowed her eyes at him although her lips were curving into a smile. "Just kiss me."

"See, I knew it." 

This kiss was playful. He nibbled on her lips, teased them with his tongue but didn't deepen the kiss when she wanted him to. His hands slid, slowly and casually up her thighs and then under her shirt, over her stomach. 

She had often told him that he had the hands of a magician; he was able to release all then tension and stress from her with a simple touch, a sensual massage, or a lingering stroke.

He kept breaking the kiss over and over again, until she was practically begging him to kiss her again and then in one sweeping gesture he turned them both around so that he was lying against the plastic mat and she was straddling him, her hair around her face, her lips swollen from his kisses.

She bent down to kiss him forgetting to be slow and tender, seizing his lips with her own and being completely in control. His hands trailed up her back, bringing the material of her tank top with them. She broke away from him when he pushed her top over her head.

"You know," she almost purred as she reached for the hem of his shirt. "It looks like you're a little too over dressed for this."

"You will rectify that in a moment, won't you?" 

Yes, she would. In a few minutes, they were both undressed. Hands, teeth and lips - touching, teasing, tasting. She found herself under him again as he settled between her legs, ready to take them both to the edge. 

He pushed a strand of hair away from her face, looked at her again like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. "I can't believe you're going to be wife."

"I'm looking forward to it," she replied softly, tracing a finger down the contours of his face. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He entered her and she welcomed him openly, excitedly. All hint of humor was gone from his face, replaced with passion and love and the promise of pleasure.

Hours later, they lay in their bed together numb from their lovemaking. She cuddled against him and sighed happily. And he stroked lazy circles on her back and she turned her lips up to his for another kiss. 

"You know," she mumbled against his lips. "Losing feels a lot like winning." 

The End


End file.
